All I could hear from the collective consciousness were voices crying out for victory, but none of them described what that victory stood for. They merely said they wished for the Arachnea’s queen—myself—to lead them to victory. So, in response, I could only torment myself in an attempt to figure out what it meant.
Even my attempt was being transmitted to the Swarm via the collective consciousness, but they kept crying for victory all the same. But if they didn’t know how to define that victory, what was I supposed to do?
“Say, Swarm.” I lifted my face from the covers, looking up at the Swarm watching over me. “What do you want me to do?”
The Ripper Swarm tilted its head slightly in a gesture that implied it didn’t quite understand what I was asking.
“What we crave is victory, Your Majesty,” it answered.
“But what kind of victory is that? World conquest? Forming a nation?”
I could have asked the collective consciousness directly, but I preferred speaking face-to-face. I wanted to hear what the Swarm had to say. It may have been connected to the collective consciousness, but right now this individual was separated from the others, fulfilling the task of his defending the queen. Perhaps its response would be different.
Just what kind of victory is it seeking? Does it wish to conquer this world after all? Is “victory” forming an Arachnea empire? Are there other victory conditions that haven’t occurred to me?
“I do not know. However, we simply hold an immense longing for victory. We desire nothing more than victory, and that will never change. We are sure that you will be able to guide us to the victory we desire, Your Majesty. We trust you to no end, and we wish to serve as your hands and feet as we achieve victory. We are certain you will be able to guide us, Your Majesty.”
“You guys...”
The pressure was on. The Swarm trusted me wholeheartedly at the moment, but if I made a mistake in my “command” of them, there was the risk they might rise up in revolt and turn me into ingredients for the next generation of Swarms instead. Being linked to their consciousness only exacerbated that fear.
They were my charming, beloved bugs, but terrifying monsters all the same. I had to act in a way that would never disappoint them. That said...
“This is complicated,” I whispered to no one in particular.
It really was. In the game, you could win because you were up against someone else. But my scouting had been fruitless so far and only extended to a small part of the world. Any enemies I had were at most the poachers and slavers that disturbed the elves’ village, and they were no match for the Swarm.
Who was I supposed to win against? I needed to lead my adorable little Swarms, but toward what, exactly? To call this situation “complicated” would’ve been an understatement. I had no enemies to speak of at the moment, no concrete goal. What would I fight, and what would I gain from fighting? Unlike the game, there was no clear-cut opponent.
Suddenly, the carriage came to a halt.
“What’s the matter?” I peeked out from the body of the carriage to see what had caused us to stop.
In front of us were several people clad in leather armor standing in formation. They had short bows in their hands, and their arrows were nocked and aimed at my slaver-puppet. I could sense danger; it was clear from their gazes that they were out for blood.
“Moisei!” One man, who looked to be their leader, raised his voice at the slaver. “Looks like ya made a real profit today, ya jackal! But you ’aven’t fergotten about that debt ya owe us, ’ave ya?!”
Ugh. Not only is he a slaver, but he’s in debt too? He’s seriously useless.
“I’ll be takin’ yer cargo as a, uh, li’l deposit toward yer debt.”
I couldn’t let them do that. This was my precious cargo, not his.
“Check every corner ’a the thing! Go on!”
The men moved in to inspect our carriage.
This is bad.
I only brought one Ripper Swarm with me today. While I contemplated my chances of success, the armed group circled the body of the carriage.
“Huh?” One of the men pulled a crate full of meat off the top. “What the hell? It’s all meat! What were you thinking?!”
“Oh! And ya got a lovely li’l slave with ya, too. If we sell this one off, that’ll completely clear yer debt, eh?”
They had also found me, and apparently thought I was a slave. They couldn’t have imagined that my relationship with the slaver was quite the opposite. I stayed still so as not to provoke the men, instead fixing a loathing gaze at them.
So they’re slavers too. In other words, scum worth less than the lowliest dog. Does society benefit whatsoever from these people drawing breath? Even if slaves aren’t illegal in this world, I can only see these people as vile, offensive wastes of space.
“Hey, Boss, how about we sell her—”
“Wait a sec... Isn’t there somethin’ weird back there?”
The ruffian was so focused on me he failed to see it.
Yes, the Ripper Swarm standing behind me.
A split second later, the Ripper Swarm’s scythes severed the head of the ruffian leaning into the carriage, causing blood to gush out from his neck stump like a fountain. It spurted, then died out, then spurted again, matching the man’s final heartbeats. It was almost comical in a way.
How is death comical, you might ask? Well, they were slavers. The same kind of trash that would kill and kidnap elven children. And as my conscience was linked to the Swarm’s hivemind, I could kill hundreds of them and not feel so much as a pang of guilt.